


Sublimation

by romanticalgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl





	Sublimation

Harry’s been drunk before.

He’s been drunk before often enough that he can’t even count on one finger the times. He’s been so drunk he barely remembers how he got home, much less what he did. There’ve been times when he was drunk enough to wake up in the bed of someone who, were he not a light sleeper even when three sheets to the wind, would probably not be appreciative of finding her face splashed all over the front page of the Daily Prophet. He’s even been drunk enough that he’s woken up next to someone who wouldn’t mind her face splashed all over the front page.

Yes, he’s been drunk. Very, very, very, very drunk.

But he’s never been this drunk. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he steps into the darkened apartment and closes his eyes as the door is closed behind him. Of course, that doesn’t explain away the thrill of heat that’s thrumming through his blood down to his cock which, despite the alcohol, is harder than it’s been in a long time. That, of course, he attributes less to his amazing stamina and more to the fact that there are suddenly two very warm and determined pairs of hands guiding him through the small living room and down the hall to the bedroom.

“I am,” he said aloud just to see how it sounds, “incredibly drunk.”

“It’s only to be expected,” he’s assured. “After all, the one you love’s marrying someone else this weekend.”

“I’m not in love with Hermione.”

“No, but you are in love with Ron.”

“Don’t be daft!” He attempts to wrench free of their grasps and manages to fall onto the bed. He scrambles onto his back and stares up into two glinting pairs of eyes. “Ron’s my best mate, but I’m sure as hell not in love with him.”

“Of course you aren’t.” He narrows his eyes at the placating tone. “You just drank four bottles of Wasp Wyvern Blood Scotch because you were celebrating.”

“Course I was. Ron and ‘Ermione’s getting married tomorrow.”

“And you’re not at all sublimating.” Fred’s mouth quirks up in a smile and he tugs his t-shirt over his head. “Or,” he glances over at Ginny who is watching Harry with hungry eyes, “making up for lost time.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about. You were the one who propositioned me.” Harry reminds him. “I am, after all, very drunk.”

“You were snogging Fred in the corner of the pub, Harry.” Ginny walks forward and strips off her shirt as well, her small, pert breasts free of any other clothing, the nipples dark and hard. “I think that might put the propositioning in your court.”

She straddles him, her breasts brushing against his lips as Fred walks around the edge of the bed and settles on the mattress behind Harry. “I didn’t…” he manages as his tongue flickers out to taste the hard tips.

“And then you,” Fred catches Harry’s hands as he reaches for Ginny, lifting them up into the air so that she can tug off his Quidditch jersey, “told everyone that you had every intention of getting into a pair of Weasley knickers tonight.”

“And, since I’m the only one who wears knickers,” Ginny slithers off Harry’s lap and catches her jeans at the waistband, pushing them down to the floor. Her body is lithe and lean with soft, swollen curves of flesh, darker red hair promised beneath the pale pink knickers she wore. “I had no choice to come.”

“And since you’re hand was on my cock,” Fred bites at Harry’s earlobe lightly, just hard enough to elicit a hot gasp from his mouth, “I only assumed I was invited along for the ride.”

Ginny hitched her thumbs beneath the waistband of her knickers and wriggles them slightly until they’ve sunk lower on her hips, the barest hint of pale flesh and dark hair hinting over the edge. “Were we wrong, Harry?”

Fred’s hand skim Harry’s chest, fingers playing over the hardness of his nipples. “Is this not what you wanted?”

Harry nods slightly and turns his head, his eyes still on Ginny as he inhales Fred’s warm breath. “I’m very drunk.”

Ginny strips off the rest of her clothes and slides back on to Harry’s lap, her breasts rubbing his chest, nipples against nipples as Fred’s fingers graze them both. “Is that all you are?”

Fred’s hand skates down, over Harry’s abdomen and down to his cock. Unable to help himself, Harry moans and his hips thrust upward, his hands settling just above Ginny’s hips. “I’m not in love with Ron.”

“Of course you’re not,” Fred nibbles at Harry’s neck, tongue leaving trails of heat over his skin. “And you’re just going to let us strip you down and fuck every inch of you because you’re simply very, very drunk.”

“I think,” Ginny adds before Harry can speak, her hand unhooking the top button of his jeans, “he’s also very, very hard.”

“Is that so?” Fred asks, sliding out from behind Harry and settling at his side, guiding the younger boy back onto the bed. Harry watches from behind smudged glasses as Ginny slips off of his prone form, bookending him as both she and Fred lie beside him. “Shall I feel for myself?”

His hand slips beneath Harry’s jeans and boxers, firm and calloused as it covers Harry’s flesh. His eyes glint as he looks up at Harry, stripping his jeans off as Ginny leans over Harry and slides her tongue along his lips. Harry moans and opens his mouth for her, his tongue thick and pink as it disappears into her mouth. Leaving them to their kiss, Fred spreads Harry’s legs, sinking down onto the floor between them.

Harry gasps for air as Fred’s hands run along his thighs, his hands grabbing wildly at Ginny’s arms. “I’m…”

“Drunk?” She asks as she kisses him again, quickly this time before moving up his body, straddling him at the shoulders. “Or something more?”

“More,” Harry nods, his hands cupping her arse and urging her forward. The thick scent of her arousal assails him and he raises his head, his tongue poised for the first taste when his entire body constricts and he moans with pure pleasure as Fred’s mouth closes around his cock.

“Not fair, Fred,” Ginny reminds him, reaching down to tangle her fingers in Harry’s hair. “Pay attention to what’s in front of you.” She thrusts down slightly as she moves one finger to her own sex and wets it, placing it on Harry’s tongue as it slips out to dampen his lips. “Above you.” She pushes the finger into Harry’s mouth and makes a soft whimper of pleasure as instinct kicks in and he sucks on it. “Wet for you.”

Fred’s low chuckle drowns out Harry’s groan, the sound reverberating along Harry’s cock, up to his spine. He groans again, the sound no longer because of Ginny, and pushes her finger from his mouth, fingers tightening on her arse as he pulls her forward. 

Fred pulls back and Harry’s answering cry of disappointment is buried in Ginny’s flesh. He watches her as she plays with her breasts as his tongue lathes her clit, fingers pinching and teasing until the tips are distended and hard and she’s breathing fast, her body rocking down against Harry’s tongue.

Harry fights for breath as she surrounds him, her arousal coating his tongue as he works two fingers inside her, thrusting them in rhythm with his circling clit, doubling the slow rhythm of Fred’s now-stroking hand. He tries to focus on the sensation, unable to as Ginny groans low, the sound mutating into a high-pitched keen of pleasure as her fingers close over her nipples, pinching tight as the flood of her orgasm buffets Harry’s hand and mouth.

Harry’s tongue chases rivulets of her climax until Ginny’s body shakes with reaction and she slumps away, her hair brushing his shoulder as she buries her face against him. He starts to say something, stopped as Fred’s mouth is on him again, no longer teasing as hard, hot suction envelopes Harry’s cock. 

He gasps and bucks his hips, fighting against the two strong hands Fred places on his hips. His breathing is ragged and his body tightens, the need to come swimming in his stomach. He braces himself for release, stuttering and spluttering as Fred is suddenly gone. “Not yet, Harry,” Fred whispers as he stands, Harry’s heels hooked on his shoulders. “It’s too early for the fun to end.”

Harry closes his mouth hard to swallow as he watches Fred conjure a small, white tube. His eyes focus on Fred’s fingers as he squeezes gel onto his hand then tosses the tube away, his eyes burning hot on Harry. “What…what’re…”

Fred doesn’t answer as he lowers his hand, spreading the gel on the tight ring of muscle at Harry’s arse. He watches Harry with unreadable eyes as two fingers push slowly past the tight aperture, gliding back and forth slowly as Harry sucks air into lungs too small to handle the flow. Harry reaches out, fingers entwining with Ginny’s as Fred thrusts in another finger, the rhythm of his movements increasing as Harry starts moving with him, against him. 

Ginny kisses Harry, swallows the disappointment again as Fred’s fingers leave him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and sucks on it as his eyes fly open wide, his murmured, nonsensical protests lost against her demanding tongue as Fred’s cock pushes slowly inside him.

Harry closes his eyes, licking and biting his lower lip as Fred’s cock continues moving, the steady pace of his thrusts building. The wiry red hair that surrounds his cock brushes Harry’s balls with every stroke, the ticklish thrill forcing Harry’s hips into the air each time. Fred’s hands caress Harry’s legs, stroking and rubbing them as he continues moving, his whispered encouragements filling the room, every stroke ending in a “fuck, Harry” or “Merlin, yes.”

Harry forces his eyes open and sees Ginny, her eyes glazed. He follows her gaze down to where Fred’s hips collide with his, his cock disappearing deep with every movement. His own cock quivers with the friction, thick and glistening. He tries to swallow and fails as he sees Ginny’s hand moving between her legs, fingers spreading her folds as she teases her clit. He tries again. “Gin?”

She doesn’t look away, doesn’t move except to wet her lips. “Yes, Harry?”

“I think I’m going to die if you don’t suck my cock.” 

They all groan at the statement and Harry reaches for her, guiding her over him. She licks the head, stealing the drop of come from the tip as he eases her leg over him, his hands catching her hips and bringing her down to him again.

Harry moans hotly as his tongue delves into Ginny’s wetness, her mouth surrounding him, Fred’s cock filling him. He wets his fingers in Ginny’s arousal and slides them back, pressing against the aperture until the skin parts and he’s inside her. 

She takes him deeper, sucking hard. Harry bucks upward in response, Fred’s hard thrust at the same time pushing him deeper inside Ginny. He matches Fred’s rhythm and Ginny falls in as well and he doesn’t even have time to close his eyes before he’s coming and his tongue is on her clit and Fred is pulsing inside him and the world goes blue-black then fades, undeniably, to red.

**

Harry wakes up early, as always, and sits up. He knows, no matter how drunk he was, that he ought to leave. However, he’s managed to stay with friends and, no matter what they might suspect the rest of the time, there’s no way anyone reading The Daily Prophet is likely to think he did anything more than crash on the couch.

He slides out of bed anyway and pads to the bathroom completely naked. He wonders if he can insist he’s drunk enough to repeat the night before, wonders briefly if his body’s up to the challenge. At least, he wonders that until he steps into the shower and gets drenched, finally realizing it’s on and filled, quite to the brim, with George.

George smiles and Harry wonders how long it will take until he is as well.


End file.
